Let Her Go
by MsCanuck
Summary: Two months after the events of "The Fallen" Team Arrow picks up the pieces. Felicity finds herself in a precarious situation - between her father and the man she loves as Al Sah-Him tries to rid himself of what remains of Oliver Queen.
1. Darhk

_Well you see her when you fall asleep but never to touch and never to keep 'cause you loved her too much and you dived too deep_

_Let Her Go _Passenger

A/N: Thanks goes out to Tumblr for the prompt/inspiration. This started as one thing and ended as another.

* * *

The figure on the roof was as still as death, the plumes of exhaust from the ventilation shafts of the Vietnamese restaurant below him providing the perfect, inconspicuous cover. On the surface his moves were fluid, eyes steady and reflexes coiled, hand ready to spring for the arrows in the quiver strapped to his back, fingers ready to draw on the string, aim and loose on his target. Beneath the hood, sweat slipped down the bridge of his nose, seeping into the corner of his right eye, burning there for a moment before the feeling passed. The most recent scar on his back ebbed with the pain of infection, constant and without heed – he was told it had mostly healed. It didn't feel like it. In the back of his mind he wondered if that was the point – a long reminder that he was branded, property. By the time it healed fully he would not need the reminder – he would be one of them with mind, body and soul, Al Sah-him, heir to the demon.

It had been two months. It was an estimate at best in Nanda Parbat; time there passed marked only by the sunrise and the sunset and the chirping of birds coming and going from somewhere in the catacombs. The weather remained a constant, seasons indistinguishable in the heat of the day and the cold of the night. It was unlike here in Starling City where the bitterness of winter remained until late spring. He had been sure two months had passed when he arrived here on the orders of Ra's to hunt down a traitor to the League and the weather had warmed since April – the last time he had seen her, _all _of her.

The memory pushed itself to the front of his mind; her lips on his, his hands _everywhere, _trying to memorize each delicate curve of her body, imprinting her in his mind so he could see her in the darkness when he closed his eyes; the sounds she made when he gave her what she wanted, what he wanted, what they had wanted for so long. It was just ironic that it was their beginning at his end, the end of Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen could have happily given her what she wanted for the rest of his life at those three words, the release and euphoria the very sound of those three syllables had given him in the way only her voice could have. Oliver Queen wanted that, wanted her, always.

He peered over the side of the three-story building down onto street level, from here he could see it all. It was quiet in this part of town, far away from the foundry and the Glades – he had never worried when Felicity was home by herself, this was the part of town trouble avoided. However, it was clear someone was worrying tonight.

John Diggle's car pulled up outside the brownstone, the driver side door popping open and the man that he had called brother stepped out. John started to make his way around the front of the car before the passenger stepped out and flicked her hands at him to go back. Felicity Soak slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder, tugging at the hair that had been trapped under it and letting it fan out over her shoulders. A feeling stirred within him at that moment.

Oliver Queen had fallen in love with that woman in a collection of little moments: the way she joyously showed off her tech skills, the sound of worry in her voice as she guided him against those who wished to do him harm, the way she would not sit back and take it when he raised his voice, his tone deepened and others backed down – the eldest Queen had a weakness for strong women and Felicity Smoak was no exception. She pushed back. It had startled him at first, this petite blond with spunk, but he had come to rely on her and the utter faith she'd had in him when even he didn't have faith in himself. Felicity Smoak had been his compass, always steering him back, always leading him home, always pushing him and building him up. Felicity had seen the light inside of him, she had seen the good that he thought he had lost when he had come back from Lian Yu and Hong Kong.

In spite of himself, Oliver Queen was a good man because of her. Oliver Queen could have happily given her what she wanted for the rest of his life. Al Sah-him could not. Al Sah-him was a thing that lurked in the darkness, a killer, ruthless and merciless. Al Sah-him did not have frivolous feelings of love in his empty chest.

Al Sah-him could hear the click of Felicity's heels as she ascended the stairs to her door, turning for only a moment to give Diggle, who had followed her to the curb, his arms folded tightly across his chest, another wave of her hand.

"Digg, I'll be okay." Felicity assured, digging around in her purse for keys for a moment before producing them with a great jingle of the blue phone booth key chain which Oliver had never understood the reference of. "Trust me. He's many things – deadbeat, low-life, great flee-er of responsibility," her hands flourished about, her keys making a racket as she did so, "but he wouldn't hurt me." Felicity replied to a question that Al Sah-him had not heard.

Diggle stood still for another moment or two before his phone rang a muted tune in his inner breast pocket.

"I'll call you if I hear a bump in the night." Felicity turned away then, entering the house and offering up a little wave before she closed the door behind her. Diggle's phone rang another moment before he answered, rounding the car and getting back behind the wheel.

"Lyla. I'll be home, don't put Sara to bed yet," Diggle murmured into the mouthpiece. The door of the vehicle shut with finality and Al Sah-him could see the house light up beyond the door.

"Al Sah-him." The voice did not startle him, he had heard his approach, quiet though it was across the gravel roof. Sarab was well suited to his League name with most others, but never with Al Sah-him, not even when they had been Maseo Yamashiro and Oliver Queen.

"Sarab."

"We have confirmation – the target was seen entering through the back door."

"He was never supposed to get this close," Al Sah-him growled, standing then as he watched the light in the living room illuminate across the street.

* * *

Felicity loved the feeling of the cold hardwood beneath her feet – it felt like home – she walked slowly this way, each foot absorbing the cold before she moved forward. She thumbed each button of her long jacket open and shirked it off of her shoulders, laying it across the back of the couch. She'd taken a few steps toward the bathroom, her fingers already searching for the zipper on the back of her dress when she heard the clatter.

She froze for a moment, stilled like a stray cat caught by the beam of a flashlight before she turned on the heels of her feet toward the couch and saw the picture frame on the floor, face down, its stand stuck up in the air like the leg of a dead bug. Felicity was across the room in a flash, her knees on the cool floor, scooping the frame up like a fallen child.

John Diggle was a sentimental guy – of course no one would have guessed and those who did were never too brave to accuse him of it. When they'd left Oliver in Nanda Parbat, Felicity ghosted around about life. She went to work the next day for Ray, though there was a small bit of awkwardness which neither of them was admittedly great at handling. Felicity went on this way for the better part of a month, she spoke little, left her house even less and saw the world in shades of Oliver Queen. Diggle and Laurel had imposed a sort of intervention – they told her it was alright to be upset but that Oliver would have wanted her to be happy and then Digg had given her this frame filled with a memory of a happier time. Felicity put on a brave face, agreed to have a pity party with ice cream, but she quietly refused to talk about Oliver like he was dead. Never in the past tense which the others had adopted. Oliver _was_; Oliver _had_ been...

It had always seemed like it was harder when they thought Oliver was dead, the idea of his death final and absolute, but this was worse Felicity had come to realize – he was choosing to stay in Nanda Parbat, he was choosing to stay away, to leave them – to leave her.

Felicity turned the frame over in her hands, her eyes finding the crack that spread in a spider web pattern from the top right corner to the middle of the frame. She smiled then, her eyes wandering over to Oliver, his smile. The photo had been taken at Diggle and Lyla's wedding – it already seemed like it was years ago, it didn't seem like such a happy event could have happened so close to the moment that tore him from their lives. If Felicity could have done it all over again she would have told him that she loved him, twice for every time that he had told her and then every moment of every other day that they were together after.

She could feel the tears coming, the sting in the bridge of her nose and the blur at the bottom of her vision as she touched his face in the picture. She remembered that night in Nanda Parbat often: the roughness of his facial hair against her face, against her skin, the way he never took his eyes off of her. She remembered the feeling of his scarred skin beneath her touch and she loved them as marks in passages of events, of every moment that made the version of Oliver Queen that lay beneath her. She remembered the feeling of his weight on top of her, always present but always careful with her as if she might break. He touched her scar, the one on her shoulder, the one she was proud of. He had kissed it and lingered there for a moment as if he accepted it as part of her journey, the path that led her to be the Felicity Smoak that shared his bed, the one that had stolen his heart and held it fast.

Felicity felt the sharp bite of the broken glass and rouge smeared the glass as her finger reached Oliver's far cheek. A sniffle and the repressing sound of swallowing tears came from her throat as Felicity pushed herself to her feet and brought the frame over to the kitchen sink. Felicity wiped the blood from the frame first with a damp cloth she'd left hanging over the faucet in the morning and almost as a second thought stuck her finger in her mouth once she was sure there was no glass there.

* * *

"He killed the sentry in the alleyway and on the rooftop." Sarab was calm, his nerve was steady. Al Sah-him supposed this was why Ra's had sent him on this task. "He knew we were waiting."

Al Sah-him stood in the shadow just outside the reach of the light coming from the window. He watched Felicity as she turned her back to him, cleaning the frame at the sink and sticking her finger in her mouth. Oliver Queen was still within him, he knew it when he watched her, could feel it when now that he saw her, all he wanted to do was keep watching – dedicating every little way she moved to memory. The pull of her was like gravity, all he could do was to obey.

"Al Sah-him," Sarab's voice roused him from his state. "We must act."

Al Sah-him had to be stronger than Oliver Queen. In this moment most of all. Al Sah-him turned to Sarab and a nod pulled his chin down once, sharply and Sarab disappeared into the shadows with a nod in reply.

* * *

Felicity carried the frame with her to the back bedroom, she would have to get the glass replaced, but for now she'd set it down on her night stand. Moving toward the light in the corner of the room, Felicity tugged on the chain and her room illuminated. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, as she turned, her eyes fell on the occupied high back chair in the corner of the room near the closet she could barely keep closed anymore.

"Liss." There was a smug look about his weathered face and his age showed when he smiled the smile that turned up the corners of his mouth. Donna had always told Felicity that she'd taken two things from Damien Dahrk's gene pool – his brains and his smile. It always rotted Felicity that her mother reminded the youngest Smoak that she had the same smile as the man that had left them high and dry. It stung more that her mother always seemed whimsical when she said it, touching Felicity's face and smiling like she missed the man who had thrown them to the curb for whatever reason. He sat in the chair for a moment then as Felicity remained silent and still, his leg crossed over the other casually as if he'd been expected.

Damien Darhk had the look of a professional card reader. He looked young, almost baby faced even though he pushed fifty-three, but there was a hardness to his eyes, a pull at the corners of his lips and the scar that disrupted the flow of his left eyebrow, the one that Felicity's mother had told Felicity about whenever she reminisced about him. The gallant young guy at the bar who had defended her when she was being accosted by drunks. Damien Darhk, the hero. Though his blond hair had faded to lighter golden mixed with white.

"Get out." Felicity was stern, her mouth fixed in a straight, terse line. When he didn't move she shot her arm out, finger pointed to where she knew the door was. She didn't take her eyes off of him.

Dahrk stood then, the smile fading but his eyes, dancing and taking her in. "Is that any way to talk to dear old dad?" He sauntered over to her, arms opened wide as if he meant to hug her.

Felicity remembered the last time she had seen her father. She had been sixteen, three days after her birthday. He'd shown up in front of their small bungalow in Nevada while Donna slept off a late shift at The Cannery and Felicity sat on the front stoop with a laptop balanced on her knees. She hardly recognized him; it was the way of things when your dad showed up every decade or so and then disappeared again.

"Liss." He'd smiled that same smile, selling the snake oil as he pulled the tinted aviators off his face and opened his arms like he'd meant to hug her – not unlike now. She'd allowed him to hug her then, back when she still had a quiet wish to have a dad who showed up and was part of her life. It was the start of the phase when she dyed her hair dark and wore a lot of dark makeup that she didn't know what to do with – it set her apart from her mother, it made her feel a little bit more independent. "Is Donna home?" He managed, sneaking a look behind Felicity at the screen door that didn't close and rattled if the wind blew too hard. "No." Felicity lied, folding up the laptop and tucking it under her arm, fussing with a dark skirt that was much too short for her.

"What's this?" He asked her, tapping the hard shell of the laptop.

"I built it." Felicity remembered working on it at night after she told Donna she was going to sleep. She waited for the sound of the cab pulling away, taking her away to her night shift, waited the customary seven minutes during which Donna would return if she'd forgotten something and then put nose to hard drive. She had to smash a couple of clocks and dismantle a few of the electronics at home and in the neighbour's garage, but she made it and it worked. She was proud of it like her classmates were proud of getting their drivers licenses.

"Not bad, Kiddo." He slipped it out from under her arm and appraised it from every angle, pointing out parts and the mishmash of pieces like he'd watched her build it. "How 'bout I show you some of my tech?" Felicity knew they were one and the same that day when she noticed the way his eyes lit up when they talked about gadgets. It was a language they had, a high tech mumbo jumbo, jargon that was just theirs and theirs alone it seemed. He took her to a few stores, shopped around with her for a bit, bought her a new tools, a new router and one of those Macs that kids only hoped for. She shouldn't have been surprised that while she thought they were bonding, he was using her as a ping on a system, a tip-off to throw the scent off his trail. They'd stopped at a gas station a few blocks from the bungalow and he gave her his credit card, told her to grab a few snacks and they'd go to that drive in off of Wilmington. By the time she had swiped the card and shoved through the front door, the Chevy Impala and her father were gone. Felicity waited for a half hour before she started home. The cops were waiting for her. Stolen credit card, something about a felon and if she had any information on his whereabouts. With a straight face, she had looked the officer in the eye and lied.

She promised herself she wouldn't let it happen again.

The Damien Darhk that stood before her now smiled in that same way. He looked at her as if she was his lighthouse in the storm. "Felicity," He sighed when she didn't melt, her expression remaining stern. "I just need you to help me out here."

Felicity steered him toward the front door, through the living room and he shook her off just short of the end of the couch. "Felicity, you don't understand."

Felicity was having none of it, she didn't bother to ask how he had found her. "I just need an in, Ray Palmer or even your buddy Oliver Queen. They trust you, right?"

The name was like a punch in the gut. It took her back, stole the comment from her lips. He wouldn't know. Not many people knew, they assumed Oliver Queen was laying low, waiting for the rumours to die down. Felicity scrambled for verbal footing - this wasn't like her to be lost for words.

A crash from the back bedroom shook her from her state and she turned in time to watch the dark figure break through the window in her bedroom, knocking over the lamp and the nightstand in a shower of glass, the others came quickly after, through the large living room window and another through the kitchen window. "Felicity, this way." Darkh darted for the door, wrenching open the port quickly and shutting it again sharply as if he meant to keep a wild animal at bay. "Not this way," he amended with a grimace, his back pressed against the door, his words punctuated by several thudding sounds. Felicity might not have known the sound before she'd met Oliver and edged in on his secret – she knew the sound now as a familiar one. Arrows embedding themselves into her front door.

"Who did you con this time?" Felicity snatched the empty mug off the side table in the living room and lobbed it at the hooded figure. In a swift move the archer sidestepped the projectile and drew an arrow from the quiver and drew the dark bow, taking aim.

The League. This time her father was too deep. Loan sharks and ditching your family seemed like some first circle crap, but the League was ninth circle of hell territory. Felicity wouldn't forget the League for as long as she lived – it had stolen possibilities from her, a future and hope. It had stolen a piece of her that she could never forgive them for.

"Sarab." The voice that rang out above the din and the sound of invasion was stern and the dark figures immediately froze, weapons at the ready, bows drawn and aimed.

Felicity could count thirteen in her small living space, glass and devastation crunched below their dark boots. If she could count thirteen, there were more she couldn't see.

They parted then, folding back around the space he vacated as he passed. The dark figure stopped a few paces in front of Felicity, her father quiet behind her.

It took her a moment, but Felicity knew it was him, even though the hood and the mask concealed all but his eyes. Oliver Queen; his eyes were distinct, but the glimmer in them was gone, the hope and life and soul behind them was dark and fathomless. Even the sound of his voice was changed, rough and coarse.

"Oliver?" She was breathless as though she'd run a mile and yet she couldn't move. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, beating against get ribs as if it were a bird trying to break free from its cage.

He remained still, his eyes on her for no more than a moment before they skipped over her and landed behind her, on her father. "Damien Darhk," he reached up to remove the piece that covered the bottom half of his face, "you stand accused of treachery against the Demon's Head. As Heir to the Demon, you will see justice at His hand or by mine."

"You won't take him." Felicity spoke with force now as she stepped forward and the bows followed her movements, ready to loose arrows should she present herself as a threat. "I won't let you take him." She knew she wasn't talking about her father.

"Oliver, please." Felicity froze, so close to him she could reach out and touch the spot on his chest where she knew the Bratva tattoo was, so close she could see the smooth line of his jaw. She set her jaw when she felt the stinging feeling behind her eyes – she wouldn't cry in front of him, but she could feel the knife twist in her chest. He didn't look at her.

"Felicity." The sound of her full name sounded strange coming from her father. The screaming screech that made her weak in the knees and knocked out the lights quickly that came shortly after shouldn't have surprised her. Her father had always been good at getting out of sticky situations. She clapped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut, sinking low and landing hard on her knees, broken bits of glass nipping into her skin.

She felt a strong grip on her upper arm that pulled her to her feet and out the broken living room window, out into the night, the ringing still in her ears.


	2. Al Sah-Him

"_Say something I'm giving up on you . . . Anywhere I would have followed you. Say something I'm giving up on you."_

_ \- Say Something _A Great Big World

_**A/N:**_ Wow. Just wow. The feedback I received from the first chapter was and continues to be nothing short of amazing. You guys are rocking this and your reception (in the form of follows, favourites, likes and of course reviews) keeps this writer happy beyond words. My goal is to put out a new chapter every Tuesday evening/Wednesday. For clarification, this story does not follow all of the happenings in _Arrow._

* * *

Felicity could still feel the ringing in her ears, the ghost echoes of pain and the hollowness of what could only have been a temporary loss of hearing. Everything was slow to come back to her, like a thick fog clouded her mind and she struggled to find her way through. First, she realized she was no longer barefoot, a pair of converse shoes a size too small sloppily tied into a knotted double bow. No doubt Damien's handy work.

She was two blocks from her flat when her hearing had started to come back, her father tugging her along, taking the busiest streets and making sure to stop into a restaurant or two and sit at a table with a view of the whole place. Setting up pings on a system; keeping them both in the view of the public.

"What the hell was that?" Felicity murmured, slipping into a booth at the Big Belly Burger, the same one she and Digg used to go to when Carly worked there. She glanced over at the small table by the window, the one with the view of the street and the people that passed on the sidewalk – she'd met Oliver there after she found out his secret, after she decided that she would trust him on the condition that Oliver would help look for Walter. The image of the man she'd met here that day seemed irreconcilable with the man she'd seen in her living room a moment before. The Oliver Queen she'd known, the one she'd fallen in love with was gone and the empty feeling in her chest only served as a reminder of that. She allowed herself another moment's stroll down memory lane and forced herself to look away. No good ever came from getting lost in the past when the present demanded attention; she and Digg had always reminded Oliver of that. Now it was her turn to be strong for him.

Damien Darhk smiled with pride as he settled in across from Felicity, pulling her focus back to him as he dug the device out of his pocket. To anyone else it would have looked like a small speaker, maybe a prototype for a Bluetooth device that paired with a smart phone, but Felicity recognized it. Sara had used a similar weapon. "It's a Long Range Acoustic Disruptor." He placed it on the sticky table between them and pushed it toward Felicity when she didn't move to pick it up. "I designed a much larger version for the military for use on ships and in the field," he sat back in the booth with a groan of the worn upholstery, "this beauty is the upgrade to the upgrade that I have yet to sell to them. Though, you might want these if you're planning to use it."

Out of his pocket he produced a small clear plastic piece that looked no bigger than dime with a small ear bud at one end. Felicity scowled at him.

"You had brain scrambler ear plugs the whole time?" Felicity picked it up gingerly, examining it in the palm of her hand opposite the device. "Could have given me a heads up…" Not that Felicity would have paid any attention – it was difficult that way when the man you loved had been turned into a shadow of his former self. She tugged at her left ear quietly and swallowed hard twice as she waited for the relief of the pressure like the relief of the body's adjustment to altitude in the cabin of a plane.

"I didn't have much of a choice, Liss," Damien shrugged casually, glancing at a passing waitress with suspicion before focusing on his daughter.

Felicity scoffed loudly. It was always out of his hands. Nothing was ever his choice. "The League breathing down your neck, was that none of your doing either? Care to explain why that might be?"

Darhk shot forward, hovering over the table top, his eyes intense and the lines around them deeper now that Felicity actually looked. "I know you're upset about my choices in life. How I made choices about you and your mother. Trust me, you were better off without me hanging around."

Felicity couldn't count the ways she'd always been angry with her father for the way he was and how he conducted himself. They were choices that he made. If he'd been dead, if he'd been an absentee father because he was away, fighting for the country it would have been easier – Felicity could forgive her mother for still loving him if either of those had been the case. She knew Donna still loved him in the way she talked about him.

"But this is not the time or place to be talking about this." Darhk scanned the restaurant for a moment then, taking note of the people there. "The League has agents everywhere. Your friend Mr. Queen included it would seem."

Felicity bit her tongue, hard. She was going to call Digg and she was going to clear her head. If her father stuck around long enough this time, maybe she'd straighten him out as well. Patting the pockets of her dress for the shape of her phone, Felicity almost cursed when she realized that it had been in the pocket of her trench coat, the same one she'd thrown over the back of the couch when she'd come home. The same one she'd left as she fled the flat in a hurry.

"Looking for this?" Damien slid the phone across the table but Felicity didn't take it right away, her mind racing as to why he was setting up the board this way. She wouldn't be quick to forget who her father really was after all was said and done – he looked out for number one, himself. "I was able to take it before our abrupt exit."

Felicity cautiously picked it up – she would tear it apart later and pick it over to make sure nothing extra had _managed _to slip its way in between the wiring and the internal information storage pieces while she had been disoriented.

"You should really be more careful with the password protection you have on it. I was able to crack it fairly quickly, I suspect anyone with fair knowledge of the lollipop upgrade would have been able to as well. "

Felicity ignored him, and held her tongue. At this rate, she might end up chewing off a piece before this conversation was through. Maybe Damien had been right – her life was better for his absence. All she needed to do now was to be collected enough to shake him loose and she and Diggle would deal with the ghost she had seen in her living room not but a few hours ago. The ghost with the face of Oliver Queen.

"Felicity?" She heard her name and the slam of the heavy door – she would always be glad to see Diggle but she wasn't sure when she had been happier to see him. The look of sleep was still in his eyes and the collar of his t-shirt underneath the half zipped leather jacket showed stitching – he'd dressed in a hurry. As he approached the booth he composed himself, from worried friend to hard lined military minded. Felicity slid out of the booth, throwing her arms around him in a quick embrace.

"I'm okay. It's okay. Okay." She nodded, reassurance for herself and for Digg, pulling back to look at his face. Okay. She was okay out loud and if anyone asked. She was not okay if she dug a little deeper, she was hoping Diggle wouldn't either.

Diggle's eyes fell across the booth and his shoulders grew tense. Diggle had stressed that this was a possibility and Felicity had waved him off – her father had always avoided family when he could. In her mind, the math didn't pan out to her father already being in her flat, waiting for her in the darkness. Diggle slid a sideways glance at Felicity and she half smiled in that nervous way of hers. This was the "I told you so" Diggle look. His left hand hovered above his waistband, orbiting where Felicity knew he hid a Glock. He moved her over to his right side, his arm forcing her to step behind him.

Darhk was on his feet in a moment, a toothy smile on his face as he closed the space between them, straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. "Mr. Diggle, I trust my directions were apt?" he offered his hand, moving in to grab Diggle's elbow with his other hand, securing his left hand in his grasp as he moved in close, close enough to lower his voice, a dangerous edge to his tone. "I don't believe this is the time or place for such foolishness, do you?"

The two were quiet for a moment and Felicity watched as Diggle surveyed his surroundings. After what seemed like a long, drawn out moment, Darhk released Diggle and Diggle relaxed marginally. "Smart man, Mr. Diggle."

"Dad," Felicity croaked, breaking the silence, "this is John Diggle."

"Digg, this is my dad."

* * *

Verdant hadn't opened in months, the foundry hadn't felt right since they'd left Oliver in Nanda Parbat; the Glades were deserted this time of the evening and Diggle wasn't comfortable bringing Darhk into his home with his family. Felicity couldn't say that she blamed him.

Felicity and Diggle watched her father help himself to the array of bottles behind the bar. Thea obliged when they'd stopped by her apartment and asked if she minded being there. She practically leapt at the chance. Thea showed Damien around the club for a small while before they'd returned to the bar. Felicity felt comfortable that Thea had enough training to take him down should he present himself a threat.

Felicity wiped the tears from under her glasses, taking them off and laying them on the tabletop in the balcony above the dance floor. "It was him… but it wasn't." Felicity could see Oliver again in her mind as she explained what had happened between the moment when Digg had dropped her off and when he'd burst through the door at Big Belly Burger. The hair was so short, cropped so close to his scalp, his eyes were dark, unresponsive when she'd called to him – he hadn't even looked at her. She felt like a witness to a phenomenon, trying to explain when she could barely believe it herself. It was Oliver, the way her body reacted could not have been ignored, but the man that stood before her in her apartment would not have been so cold.

"Yes, but why is the League here? Why now?"

Felicity appreciated that about Digg, he could be counted on to be the level headed one when she couldn't think straight. Digg had always been the one to put Oliver's head on straight before he went out into the field. She'd been caught up in the fractions of moments when she thought Oliver had come back and the next moments that crushed those hopes that she hadn't stopped to think why the League had been in her apartment, why they knew her father's name.

"My dad." The word shaped her mouth oddly, her lips framing the word she hadn't spoken in a long time. Dad.

"Come again?"

Felicity glanced over the railing and down at the bar where Damien Darhk sat perched on a stool, taking a swig of a mixed drink Thea had poured him.

"Oliver…" Felicity trailed off but didn't correct herself despite seeing what she had seen. "He said the League wanted him for treachery against Ra's."

Diggle readjusted himself on the seat, almost uncomfortably. "Is there something you're leaving out, Felicity?"

There was plenty she was leaving out. Felicity had known Damien was in town, she'd told Diggle that he was dangerous and that he was involved in some highly illegal things. Diggle made her walk him through a background check weeks ago when all signs pointed to a trail leading to Starling City. What Felicity didn't tell him was that Damien Darhk only let you see what he wanted you to see, layers of story that he played close to his chest until the opportune moment. He had the means to do it too; if Digg and Oliver had thought she was a genius …

"This isn't about him." Felicity mumbled into her balled up fist that she was using to support her head. But it was about _him_, it was about Oliver. Felicity's last poorly thought out and even more horribly executed was a plan of desperation – when she'd drugged Oliver in Nanda Parbat. There hadn't been much else on her mind other than leaving with Oliver – she told him that it would destroy her to leave him there and she had been right, it had been slowly eating away at her insides, like a virus destroyed its host. "This could be our chance, Digg."

She slid a cautionary glance across the table at Digg and she knew that he knew what she was talking about by the way the warring look came across his face. "He's your father, Felicity." Father. The word in reference to Darhk was strange as it left his mouth.

Felicity looked down at Darhk and watched him take a drink, long and slow, she watched him savour it. By the very definition of father, Damien Darhk might as well have been a donor and nothing more. Donna had raised Felicity. Donna had slaved away at two jobs to keep them both fed. Damien Darhk was a stranger with a familiar smile that Felicity saw in the mirror. Felicity continued to watch him until he looked up at her, smiled and toasted her with his half empty glass, the green light from behind the bar an ironic backlight. Felicity looked away, disinterested.

She could count on one hand what she wouldn't do for Oliver because there were very few things he hadn't been willing to do for her. He'd killed for her.

"The League wants him." Felicity reasoned, picking up her glasses and placing them back on her face. She'd had her moment of disorientation, of sadness. Now it was time for a plan, and there was always a plan… poorly thought out or not.

"The League doesn't mess around, Felicity."

"This is Oliver!" Felicity could feel the anger roiling just beneath the surface, her voice climbed a few decibels and then she simmered quickly, lowering her voice but speaking deliberately and with purpose. "What wouldn't he do if it was you, or me?"

Diggle's shoulders sagged, his hands washing over his face once before he looked across the table at the determined blonde. "We need to approach this carefully."

As much as she hated wasting time, Digg was right about this.

"We'll lay low for tonight; I'll take Darhk watch tonight. You get some rest." Diggle stood, sliding his leather jacket off the back of the chair and threading his arms through the sleeves. "We need to know if we can trust him."

Felicity already knew the answer to that.

* * *

Thea had insisted that Felicity stay with her, after all, Oliver's bedroom was empty. The bitterness tinted her voice. She and John had agreed not to tell Thea what was going on until they knew for sure. Diggle had already set up a meeting with Laurel in the morning. Tonight was not the night to make hasty decisions.

Entering the swanky apartment, Thea tossed her coat on the island in the open concept kitchen.

"Do you want a drink or – something?" Thea attempted, pointing to the stainless steel fridge with both fingers. "I have wine or coffee …"

Felicity shook her head curtly. Now that she thought about it, she'd never had much of a chance to connect with the youngest Queen. She wasn't sure they'd have much in common – of course they had Oliver or Ollie but that topic had been one she chose not to broach these days. In a way, Felicity felt like Oliver would have wanted her to take care of Thea – which was difficult when Thea could take down men twice her weight and size without much of a thought. It was also difficult to help another person heal when you were still hurting. Not to mention, Felicity didn't have much experience being an older sister.

"No, thanks." Felicity smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "I think I'll actually turn in…"

Felicity thought she saw a look of disappointment cross Thea's expression, but it was gone just as quickly. "Sure. Ollie's room is the first one at the top of the stairs."

The bedroom at the top of the stairs was large, a section of wall replaced by floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the cityscape. She'd been to Thea's place a few times but she'd never been up here, looking at the city from here. It was a stinging reminder that she had missed out on this because of Ra's, it was a slap in the face that she was reminded of what she would not get back. Closing the door quietly behind herself, Felicity struggled out of the sneakers, lining them up neatly beside the door frame before stepping deeper into the space.

Struggling to unzip her dress, Felicity wriggled out of it and laid it across the bottom of the bed. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about this bed many many times. Too many times to count, possibly. This was the same on she'd bought him when he'd been sleeping in the Foundry and it surprised her that he still had it now that he lived with Thea. This should have been their bed, the one they shared… now she would sleep in it alone. Felicity shivered slightly, rubbing her bare arms.

Crossing the room, Felicity stood before the closed closet for a moment before she opened it, stepping into the small space and flicking on the light switch she felt out on the wall. The smell of Oliver's cologne, stale and faded hung in the air here, a sealed place that encapsulated him. A collection of his shirts hung perfectly, shoes lined up neatly along the floor. His ties hung from a rack that spun and Felicity flicked it so that the ties swayed in a circular motion before slowing to a stop. It felt like if she closed her eyes for long enough and hoped hard enough that this world where Oliver Queen didn't exist would be gone. She would pick out a shirt that she liked for him, step out of the closet and Oliver would be there, stepping out of the bathroom, skin still beaded with the water from a shower, in nothing but a towel and a smile that was only for her, the Oliver Queen smile that made her knees weak and her stomach flop even before she had admitted to herself that she loved him. They would make love on the bed she'd just made, tangle the sheets in a heap at the bottom of the bed on the floor and it would all be a bad dream that she would tell him about and he would reassure her that it would never happen; he would never let anything take him away from her.

Felicity closed her eyes and squeezed tightly. She hoped against hope and reason, but the room was still empty and dark when she left the closet with the blue flannel shirt Oliver wore too many times. Slipping it over her bare shoulders, Felicity slid under the sheets, removing her glasses and placing them on the nightstand before shutting off the bedside lamps. For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep quickly, Oliver all around her, overwhelming her senses.

* * *

Al Sah-Him flexed his jaw, he could feel the pressure causing the pain of headache. His ears were still ringing. When they'd finally found the device and crushed it, Felicity and Darhk were long gone. They would have to wait until he resurfaced – if Darhk was gone, he was a ghost. The reason he had led them to his only daughter was puzzling. Most men hunted by the League distanced themselves from their loved ones. Most.

If what Ra's had told him about Damien Darhk was true, he was not like most men.

Al Sah-Him decided then that he must be tactical. Damien Darhk was not simple minded. There was a plan in motion. A ghost, an architect, a horseman, darkness, Al Mod-Hlim. A total darkness that could absorb no more. Like a black hole, he absorbed and devoured all in his wake with the purpose of extending his own life.

Oliver Queen struggled within him as Al Sah-Him watched Felicity from a distance, stepping out of the closet and slipping the shirt over her shoulders. She flicked out the light and darkness consumed her, erasing her from his sight.


End file.
